


1959

by Red_and_R3d



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Alternate Universe - High School, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Humanstuck, M/M, One Shot, Other, can be interpreted however really, or not human stuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-04 14:19:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3071306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_and_R3d/pseuds/Red_and_R3d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1959 and the joint is empty for the night. </p><p>Empty, except for the two of you...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1959

**Author's Note:**

> An unrelated intermission for the unintentional hiatus of my other [fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1062724/chapters/2131148)
> 
> I had originally intended to post it at another time. However, with the New Year started, I want to use it as a small self-promise to myself regarding my New Years resolution.
> 
> What is it you ask?? Well, you'll just have to see...
> 
> In the meantime though, Happy New Year everyone!!
> 
> (the music is integrated into the fic to make it more interactive, however for those who would rather just listen from the start: [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lX0ws6y7p5g))

 

 

 

   The year is 1959 and the joint is empty for the night. Empty, except for the two of you. He sits there in the green booth on the other side of the diner. A soft quiet has settled between you two, disturbed faintly by the small clanks of old pots and pans as John's dad cleans the final portions of the back kitchen before closing. He looks at you intently; eyes bright like the moon, lip caught in his teeth but still curled up at the edges while he waits for your queue. You lean against the jukebox and tilt your head forward, letting your shades slide down the bridge of your nose so your eyes can truly meet his. He gives you a slight nod as he presses his elbows against the smooth dark-wood surface of the table, repeatedly wrapping one hand around the other. You roll your left sleeve up halfway before hitting the[ jukebox ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lX0ws6y7p5g)in just the right spot. You hear the strum of the guitar and the Everly Brothers begin to sing. He gets out of the booth and reclines against the edge, hands in his pockets and chin down. He peers up at you between locks of ravenous black hair, combed wildly throughout the day with tense fingers and exasperated palms. You cannot help but smile, thinking of how in the mornings his hair is styled with more hair product and determination than yours, yet by the end of the day it is as disorderly as an old bird's nest. You like it that way though; it feels more like the real him. You stand up and smooth out your black leather jacket with a fluff of the collar. You adjust the zipper, exposing the dark red shirt hidden beneath. With hands in your jacket and a tap of your left boot on the checkered tile, you step forward in your faded blue jeans. He does the same. You creep closer to one another, slowly, delicately. Passing the yellow painted walls covered in high school banners and flyers for the sock hop. Passing the old booths along the edges of the room and across the floor of black and white; finally meeting in the center. You look down at him and his brow furrows, as it does 90 percent of the time. He reaches his hands to your face, square fingers lifting your shades over your head. You curl your right arm around him and bring him close, hand centered in the perfect curve of his back as your eyes drink in every brightened detail of his image; his long dark eyelashes and soft lips, his strong but smaller frame, his definitely nerdy grey plaid shirt and beige khakis.

He catches you in his gaze as he caresses his fingers over your right shoulder, and your heart briefly forgets how to beat. You offer your left hand and he slides his own on top. Your fingers intertwine together as you begin to dance, pressing your forehead lightly against his as you both sway to the sound of the music. You can never seem to describe this feeling of being with him. It is something that makes your heart hop-jump-and-skip all over the place, and sends the world spinning like a top. You feel like you are on cloud nine and at the same time you feel like you are drowning. It is impossible and all too surreal, and yet it feels so genuine and possible and amazing.

You would have never felt this if it was not for both your dates cutting out on you at Prospit Point; leading you both to wind up at the local drive-in to watch away the romantic rejection. You would have never even gotten a chance if it was not for you losing your balance as you leaned too far over when fighting about the broken glove compartment in your brother's DeSoto, falling on top of him in the front seat of the car. You would have never in your life felt those fireworks if it was not for that moment of staring into his starlit eyes and he into your crimson reds. It was strange at first, slow and unsure, but you knew something was there. Something you would never have been able to figure out if it was not for him taking those same square fingers and pulling your face close to his, giving you a surge of fire with his lips like no girl ever did before. How that warmth spread throughout your body, how you knew right off the bat that this was something you only heard about in the dark corners of the school hallways, that it did not make sense and was not supposed to, yet still you wanted that moment to last until the day you die.

Maybe there will be a day when you can walk along the sidewalk with your hands weaved together as tight as they are now. Maybe a day will come when you can stand on his front doorstep and look deep into his eyes as you always do on nights like this without the worry of being found. Maybe one day you can give him something to show that you will always be his and his alone; a promise that you want nothing more than to spend the rest of your nights with him as close as you are right now.

 

 

 

Until then though, all you can do is dream.

 


End file.
